Clockwork Violinist
by XblackcatwidowX
Summary: After Tessa Gray and James Carstairs are once again reunited, they have big plans for the future. However, when a SOS cry knocks at their door from none other than the New York Institute, it's a little hard to continue leading the calm future that they had envisioned… BASED AFTER CP2, and CoHF.
1. Prologue: Sydney Cove

**~Prologue~**

**Sydney Cove**

**Hi guys, I'm so pleased to have you reading this on this fine, fine day. ;) This is an Infernal Devices Mortal Instruments crossover, but the protagonist is Tessa. Main pairing is Jessa, along with Clace and so and so. If you didn't read the summary, this is based after Clockwork Princess and City of Heavenly Fire (both of which I bawled my eyes out over), and this tale shall begin in Australia! See y'all in Sydney, me mateys. **

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><p>The sky was coloured a deep grey, pale clouds dripping across it, like wet paint on canvas, running like dark tears down the surface. Despite the supposedly miserable day in Sydney, nothing could ever stem Tessa's optimism as she walked, hand-in-hand with James Carstairs. The smooth ground caught the quiet clicking and slapping of the heels of shoes against it as Australians and tourists wandered around the Opera House, snapping photographs of the great, looming structure.<p>

"I have never been to Australia before," Jem observed carefully as he passed his reflection on the polished glass of the building.

"This is only my third time," Tessa responded, releasing Jem's hand as she walked up to the side of the Opera House, her fingers gently tracing the cool surface.

"_Only_?" Jem grinned, recalling his time as a Silent Brother when he hadn't been able to travel anywhere by free will. Tessa didn't notice the humour in his voice, and she stared at the dark glass, into her reflection's eyes.

"I usually prefer to remain in America." She hoped that Jem didn't notice when she ever so carefully brushed the pearl bracelet that her long dead husband had given to her on their thirtieth anniversary. She forced the tears that pricked at her eyes away. She couldn't do this all over again. Not again. Never again.

"Not London?" Jem inquired, and Tessa didn't reply for a moment, her fingers freezing on the glass.

_No. I left that place for a reason_. Tessa saw Jem's figure walk up to her through the glass mirror, and she didn't even attempt to smile as she once would have, many years ago.

"I cannot return there," she whispered, turning to face him, the previous lightness of their conversation backfiring. Jem's own smile faded, his eyes, so dark, with lighter chips of colour shot through it, growing solemn again. Though his face appeared young, Tessa could never forget his age, _their_ age. The two marks, along his cheekbones, were a bitter reminder of what had once been, merely a year ago.

"And so we shall not," Jem said gently, his hand cupping her chin, thumb tenderly rubbing her cheekbone, and Tessa's heart ached. She thought of her children, who would be long dead, of her grandchildren, who would have either followed that path, or were now middle-aged men and women, and she thought of what great-grandchildren she might have. And she thought of Will, his pansy-blue eyes so tired and happy as he had died in 1937. Her heart pounding, she managed a small smile at Jem.

"1973," she said, twisting around and tugging Jem with her to continue walking. Jem sounded unsure when he responded.

"1973?" He asked, and Tessa knew that he was linking the date to Will's death, switching the '3' and the '7' around.

"That was year that this was officially opened," she said. "Coincidence, is it not?" She knew that Jem knew what the 'coincidence' was.

"You brought me here for that reason?" Jem asked, and Tessa couldn't tell what he was thinking. His voice was deadpan, and she turned her head to catch his expression. It was blank, faraway, and he gazed into the distance, lost to the world.

"No, Jem," Tessa said, and her voice sounded small, even to her. "I would not _ever_ do that, to either of us." She let out a gusty breath. "It seems to me that I merely like Australia." She felt a pressure on her hand, and glanced down to see that Jem had tightened his hand over hers.

"Would you mind me asking why?" Life had crept back into his voice, and he sounded genuinely curious, not at all nosey or resentful. Tessa took a deep breath, and shot a crooked smile over to Jem. He was always so friendly and thoughtful, and it sometimes seemed as though he enjoyed insight into Tessa's mind. This was one of those times that it seemed like that.

"It is my new beginning here," Tessa said. "I have no memories from this place, and therefore there is no pain. No reminders." She froze when she said that, and realized how selfish and cowardly she probably sounded, and she studiously avoided Jem's eye. "I must sound awfully egotistic. I'm sorry."

"No, please continue," Jem said, and Tessa hesitated, before resuming.

"There are no Fairchilds, or Carstairs, or Lightwoods here," she mumbled. "Or Herondales. They all go by different names. All of the shadowhunters, I mean." Jem was silent for a moment, and he led her over to where the water of Sydney Cove was driven upwards by the wind, slapping up and down.

"I do not know much of the shadowhunters here," he said. "I'm interested to know where the main institute resides."

"In Canberra," Tessa replied. "The Canberra Institute."

"Have you ever been there before?"

"Yes, but nothing could ever compare to London's." When Tessa said that, she heard Jem's breath hitch in his throat.

_London Institute, with its steep, slanting roofs, iron wrought fences, and high stonewalls. With its grey sky and smooth marble path. Its library, its kitchen, its attic, its corridors._ Tessa knew that if she ever returned to the institute, she would see the ghost of Will in the library, selecting a book with a smile on his face; she would see Agatha piping tarts in the kitchen, hear Bridget's lilting Irish accent as she sang songs of such morose matters; she would still catch the scent of holy water and blood in the attic, the shadow of a wild, dark-haired boy still haunting the darkness; Jem's music would continue to creep the empty corridors, the music that he had strung out all of those years ago.

"Tess," Jem whispered, his voice rough, as though he had seen all of her thoughts, and Tessa turned her head towards him. He captured her lips with his, gentle and compassionate, and Tessa allowed herself to be claimed by the kiss, her whole body tingling deliciously as she hooked her thumbs onto the loops at the waist of his jeans, not caring that they were probably attracting attention as Jem's hands pressed to the small of her back.

"I love you, Tessa," he mumbled against her skin, and Tessa never got her chance to reply when her mobile's ringtone played out: a harp whispering Pachelbel's Canon in D. Tessa hurriedly cut off the kiss, reaching into his jacket pocket while Jem shot her what was close to an irritated glance.

"You really have to answer that, don't you?" He asked, yet there was an amused smile on his slightly flushed face. Tessa's heart was still hammering as she tapped the _ANSWER_ tab.

"Jem," she said, worried. "It's the New York Institute."

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><p><strong>How was my prologue? Not too bad, I hope… -_- <strong>

**Now, how about this? I wouldn't mind several reviews, so why don't you just leave one, even if you're a guest… :) Favourite, follow, whatever. Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase! The Mortal Instrument characters will be coming along soon. :P**

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	2. Chapter One: Jocelyn

**~Chapter One~**

**Jocelyn **

**First official chapter up. Let's get this show on the road! **

**Disclaimer: The original passages from Cassandra Clare's books do not belong to me. **

**Review Responses:**

**Guest: Thank you! And, ah, yes, it actually was a coincidence about Will's death date and the Opera House opening. I just felt like opening in Australia, as nobody ever does and ****_I'm_**** an Australian… I was doing a little history research on it, and BOOM, the date of the opening was linked to Will! :) **

**ink2parchment: Thank you! I'll update as soon as I can, even if there may be several breaks while school's on… -_-**

**Boingaboo: Hahaha, thanks!**

**DystopianKitKat: Why, thank you! ^-^ That's quite a compliment!**

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><p><em>"<em>_Jem," she said, worried. "It's the New York Institute."_

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><p>Biting her lip, Tessa hesitantly pressed the phone to her ear. The last time that she had heard from the New York Institute, it had been when a megalomaniac had been 'that' close to governing the entire world – no exaggeration. The shadowhunters, the downworlders, hell, even the <em>demons<em>.

"Hello?" Tessa said tentatively, unsure of what to expect. She was greeted by a voice that she knew so well, one that reminded her painfully of Charlotte Branwell. The small brunette woman's face stood out, stark and clear, with her sharp, clever eyes and neat accent. Tessa's heart jolted.

"Tessa!" Jocelyn Fairchild exclaimed, her voice laced with her American accent. "I– where are you at the moment?"

"Sydney," Tessa responded, confused, catching Jem's eye and frowning slightly. "Jocelyn, why have you called at such an odd time?" There was silence at the other end of the line, and Tessa could hear muffled voices on the other end. "Jocelyn?" She repeated, and then Jocelyn's voice, a little too high to be natural, was on the phone again.

"Oh, yes?"

"You just… asked me where I am."

"Oh, that's right." Tessa held the phone at arms length and stared at it.

"What is it?" Jem asked, puzzled, and Tessa cocked her head at him.

"I haven't the faintest idea." With another frown, she put her ear up against the phone once again. "Jocelyn, did you mean to phone me?"

"Yes. I'd just been hoping to catch you in New York or…" Jocelyn's breath tumbled out against the mouthpiece. "No, forget it. I shouldn't disturb you while you're on vacation." A bark of laughter slipped past Tessa's lips.

"If this is vacation, then I'm always on vacation, my dearest Jocelyn," she said. "And do you not remember that merely a few weeks ago, after your wedding, Jem and I left for Los Angeles? I would never be back so soon afterwards. Speaking of which, how _are _you going, Mrs. Graymark?" Tessa planted humour into her voice, but Jocelyn waved it away.

"Oh, Tessa, no need to be so formal," she said. "Just forget that I called. Take your leisurely time to return home. Goodbye, Tessa."

"I–" Tessa fell silent, before heaving her shoulders into a small shrug, and just as she began to remove the phone from her ear, she heard a hissed voice in the background, addressing Jocelyn.

"_Why don't you just tell her_?" The voice sounded low and irritated, and for a moment, Tessa's heart jumped. She could have sworn that the voice belonged to… but no. The boy's voice was laced with a somewhat American accent, not at all British.

"Tell me what?" She demanded.

"Tessa," Jocelyn sighed, "you really don't have to worry. It's nothing–"

"Jocelyn." Tessa could hear the dangerous note in her voice now. "Please." A sigh on the other end of the line. Tessa could hear regret in the sound.

"Are you familiar with the name _Mortmain_?"

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><p><em>"<em>_Please," Tessa said. "Turn your hand from them. Your grievances against the Nephilim are just. But if they are all dead, who will be lessoned by your vengeance? Who will atone? If there is no one to learn from the past, there is no one to carry on its lessons. Let them live. Let them carry your teachings into the future. They can be your legacy."_

_He nodded thoughtfully, as though he were weighing her words. "I will spare them—I will keep them here, as our prisoners. Their captivity will keep you pleasant, and it will keep you obedient"—his voice hardened—"because you love them, and if you ever even try to escape, I will kill them all." He paused. "What do you say, Miss Gray? I have been generous, and now I am owed thanks."_

_The only sound in the room was the creak of the automatons and Tessa's own blood pounding in her ears. She realized now what Mrs. Black had meant by her words in the carriage. And the more knowledge of them you have, the more your sympathies lie with them, the more effective a weapon you will be to raze them to the ground. Tessa had become one of the Shadowhunters, if not entirely like them. She cared for them and loved them, and Mortmain would use that caring and that love to force her hand. In saving the few she loved, she would doom them all. And yet to condemn Will and Jem, Charlotte and Henry, Cecily and the others to death was unthinkable._

_ "__Yes." She heard Jem—or was it Will—make a muffled sound. "Yes, I will take that bargain." She looked up. "Tell the demon to let me go, and I will come up to you."_

_ "__She saw Mortmain's eyes narrow. "No," he said. "Armaros, bring her to me."_

_ "__The demon's hands tightened on her arms; Tessa bit her lip with the pain. As if in sympathy, the clockwork angel at her throat twitched._

******_Few can claim a single angel who guards them. But you can._**

****_"__Her hand went to her throat. The angel seemed to thrum under her fingers, as if it were breathing, as if it were trying to communicate something to her. Her hand tightened on it, the points of the wings cutting into her palm. She thought of her dream._

******_Is this what you look like?_**

******_You see here only a fraction of what I am. In my true form I am deadly glory._**

_Armaros's hands closed on Tessa's arms._

_Your clockwork angel contains within it a bit of the spirit of an angel, Mortmain had said. She thought of the white star mark the clockwork angel had left on Will's shoulder. She thought of the smooth, beautiful, unmoving face of the angel, the cool hands that had held her as she had fallen from Mrs. Black's carriage toward the churning water below._

_The demon began to lift her._

_Tessa thought of her dream._

_She took a deep breath. She did not know if what she was about to do was even possible, or simply madness. As Armaros raised her with his hands, she closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind, reaching into the clockwork angel. She tumbled for a moment through dark space, and then a gray limbo, seeking that light, that spark of spirit, that life—_

_And there it was, a sudden blaze, a bonfire, brighter than any spark she had ever seen before. She reached for it, wrapping it about herself, coils of white fire that burned and scorched her skin. She screamed aloud—_

_And Changed._

_White fire blasted through her veins. She shot upward, her gear ripping and tearing and falling away, light blazing all around her. She was fire. She was a falling star. Armaros's arms were torn from her body—soundlessly he melted and dissolved, scorched by the heavenly fire that blazed through Tessa._

_She was flying—flying upward. No, she was rising, growing. Her bones stretched and elongated, a lattice being pulled outward and upward as she grew impossibly. Her skin had turned gold, and it stretched and tore as she hurtled upward like the beanstalk from the old fairy tale, and where her skin tore, golden ichor leaked from the wounds. Curls like shavings of hot white metal sprang from her head, surrounding her face. And from her back burst wings—massive wings, greater than any bird's._

_She supposed that she should be terrified. Glancing down, she saw the Shadowhunters staring up at her, their mouths open. The whole room was filled with blinding light, light that poured from her. She had become Ithuriel. The divine fire of angels was blazing through her, scorching her bones, searing her eyes. But she felt only a steely calm._

_She stood twenty feet high now. She was eye to eye with Mortmain, who was frozen with terror, his hands gripping the railing of the balcony. The clockwork angel, after all, had been his gift to her mother. He must never have imagined that it would ever be put to this use._

_ "__It's not possible," he said hoarsely. "Not possible—"_

_**You have entrapped an angel of Heaven**__, Tessa said, though it was not her voice speaking but Ithuriel's speaking through her. His voice echoed through her body like the ringing of a gong. Distantly she wondered if her heart was beating—did angels have hearts? Would this kill her? If it did, it was worth it. __**You have tried to create life. Life is the province of Heaven. And Heaven does not take kindly to usurpers. **_

_Mortmain turned to run. But he was slow, as all humans were slow. Tessa reached out her hand, Ithuriel's hand, and closed it about him as he ran, lifting him off his feet. He screamed as the angel's grip scorched him. He was writhing, already burning, as Tessa tightened her grip, crushing his body to a jelly of scarlet blood and white bones. _

_She opened her fingers. Mortmain's crushed body fell, crashing to the ground among his own automatons. There was a shuddering, a great creaking scream of metal as of a building collapsing, and the automatons began to fall, one by one, crumpling to the ground, lifeless without their Magister to animate them._

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><p>"Tessa? <em>Tessa<em>?" The voice was like an echo, too far away to even have a chance of touching her. She felt as though she stood at the bottom of a deep, dark well. A well so deep that when you looked up, it seemed that the sky was a dark, velvety-blue, a handful of silver stars strewn across it – like breadcrumbs on a table cloth – even in the middle of the day. A well so deep that if anybody was to try to communicate with you, their voice would be caught before it could reach you, the echoes of the words suspending hundreds of feet above you, forever. "Tessa, are you there?" Yet the words reached her, warding away the darkness, the emptiness that eroded her.

"_Will? Will, is that you?"_

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><p>"I… yes, I… am still here." Tessa blinked, and the scene from the past vanished before her eyes, as though it had never happened. Yet, it had. So long ago, back in the days when Will Herondale and Gabriel Lightwood had bickered in the library; back when Gideon Lightwood had enraged Sophie Collins, the servant girl, by calling for numerous numbers of scones that had never been consumed; back when Cecily Herondale had trained alone, mastering the skills of the sword; back when Henry Branwell had run havoc over dinner by turning up with his coat on fire thus scandalizing his wife, Charlotte; back when Jessamine Lovelace had sat in her bedroom, watching over the dolls that she so lovingly called Mama, Papa, and Baby Jessie; back when Jem had filled the Institute with such heart-breaking music on his violin by midnight; back when Tessa hadn't known pain.<p>

"Are you sure…?"

"Am I sure about what?" Tessa snapped, her temper running short when she was once again broken away from the past. Jem cast her a worried look as he took her free hand and began to rub her knuckles soothingly. Tessa closed her eyes when Jocelyn spoke again.

"So, are you back?"

"Back from _where_?"

"Tessa, you didn't speak for over a minute." Jocelyn sounded more perplexed than petulant. "So, _have_ you ever heard the name _Mortmain_ before?" Tessa opened her eyes lazily, staring at the sky.

"Once, long ago." She did not elaborate. "Why do you bring it up?" Jocelyn must have caught onto the hard edge in Tessa's voice, judging from her next sentence.

"Ah, no matter. The Institute can deal with this by itself."

"What has happened, Jocelyn?" Tessa growled, and she met Jem's eyes. He would have heard the panic in her voice, as he always could, and had now latched onto the conversation a whole lot more sharply.

"The thing _is_," Jocelyn said, her vowels stretching out, "a boy came by today, asking for a 'Theresa Herondale'." Tessa's ears perked there. Few people knew that name.

"What was _his_ name?" She asked, disappointment reigning when Jocelyn responded, "He never said." Her blood ran cold when Jocelyn clarified her statement. "Only told us to inform you that Axel Mortmain is coming."

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><p><strong>How's that for a cliffhanger? Huh? Huh? Now, pleeeeeaaaaase review, favourite, follow! :3 These make me happy! :)<strong>

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	3. Chapter Two: Returning to New York

**~Chapter Two~**

**Returning to New York**

**Here we go again. Oh, and I've decided that I want to include Tessa and Jem's ****_eventual_**** marriage in this fic… ;) have I gotten your attention yet? **

**Review Responses:**

**ink2parchment: Well, I suppose that you'll find out!**

**Guest: Yes, I would keep freaking out if I were you, because of what is about to come…**

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><p><em>"<em>_The thing is," Jocelyn said, her vowels stretching out, "a boy came by today, asking for a 'Theresa Herondale'." Tessa's ears perked there. Few people knew that name. _

_ "__What was his name?" She asked, disappointment reigning when Jocelyn responded, "He never said." Her blood ran cold when Jocelyn clarified her statement. "Only told us to inform you that Axel Mortmain is coming." _

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><p><em>Mortmain?<em> Tessa stared, shocked into silence. _How could Axel Mortmain still be alive? How could anybody still _remember _about him? He's dead! H-he's long dead, the angel killed him–_

"I shall… I–I shall…" words failed Tessa, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jem's dark eyes narrow, but as soon as she looked straight at him, his expression softened, and Tessa managed to say a complete sentence. "I shall r-return home immediately."

"Tessa, you don't have to–" Jocelyn's voice was cut off and Tessa pressed the _END CALL_. Taking a steadying breath, she glanced over at Jem.

"Jocelyn says that Mortmain is c-c-coming." Memories of the Dark Sisters flowed back through Tessa's mind, memories of the clockwork automatons, and she struggled to remain calm.

"_Jocelyn_ told you that?" Jem asked, his voice abrupt, and Tessa hurriedly shook her head.

"No, what I meant is that somebody turned up at the Institute asking for me," she recounted, "and he said that 'Axel Mortmain is coming'. Jocelyn merely relayed the news to me."

"Well, I can understand why you looked as though you had seen a ghost," Jem said, trying for lightness, though not at all succeeding. He grabbed Tessa's shoulders and turned her to him, forcing her to look him in the eye. "It was probably no more than a practical joke. Somebody who discovered something from the past and decided to pull a stunt."

"How did he find out my name, then?" Tessa whispered. "Nobody remembers nowadays." Jem's expression told her that he had no idea what she was talking about. "I-it was lost to history–"

"What are you talking about, Tessa?" Jem interrupted, clearly bewildered out of his wits. "What do you mean, nobody remembers your name nowadays? If I was to walk up to one of the shadowhunters or warlocks or _anybody_ who grew up in this world, and I asked them whether they knew who Tessa Gray was, they would know. Of course they would!"

"What if you asked them who Theresa Herondale was?" Tessa asked in a low voice. "Would they know then?" Jem's calm face faltered.

"I…" he sounded lost. "How could they have known…" his face hardened. "I suppose that you're right. We should go back."

"You don't have to go back with me," Tessa responded, her fingers twisting and turning the sleeves of her jacket nervously. "You have still got so much to see, don't waste your time. You should at least move on–"

"Tessa, my only desire would be to see the world _together_," Jem said, the rigidity in his voice fading. Tessa smiled reluctantly. After all of those years, Jem still sounded so sincere, his style of speaking so antiquated compared to modern day people. But then again, she probably spoke the same way. The smile was a confirmation, and glancing around, Jem took Tessa's hand and drew her to a quieter spot of the Opera House, where there was nobody to witness what was about to occur.

Jem drew his stele, and it looked like such an old-fashioned thing, even to Tessa. She had lived in modern day society for so much longer than Jem, and was now fully accustomed to the smooth, almost plastic-y looking steles that were cool to the touch. When Jem had returned to his former state of living – that is, as an ordinary shadowhunter – he had declined keeping any stele that anybody had to offer. In Los Angeles, however, Tessa and Jem had come across Clary Fairchild, Jocelyn's daughter, who had been there for 'personal business' with Jace Herondale (Only God knew what teenager couples would do nowadays as 'personal business', without a chaperon). Clary had instantly offered to create a rune to return to the London Institute, where Jem had left his original stele beneath the floorboards in his old bedroom (Tessa soon learnt that he had gotten the idea from Jessamine when she had hidden a book in Tessa's room many years ago). Tessa had chosen to remain in Los Angeles whilst Jem, Clary and Jace all stepped into the portal, and an elated Jem had returned half an hour later, _with_ his stele.

"Hold this?" Jem asked, proffering his stele, and Tessa took it silently, marveling at the feel of the wood, which had merely been sanded down for a smoother texture, and with this stele, Tessa could still feel the tiniest splinters of wood alone the surface.

"What are you doing?" She asked, curious, as Jem took a piece of folded paper from his pocket.

"Creating a portal to return to New York," was the response, and Jem sounded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tessa felt her eyes widen.

"_You can create runes_?" She whispered, her tone hushed as she watched, mystified, as Jem pressed the paper up against the wall. It had a sketched figure on it, swirling and dark. Jem took the stele back, wearing a grin on his face.

"Of course not," he announced. "Miss Fairchild is unique in that way. I merely asked whether I could have a copy of the rune that she drew when we returned to London, and she was only too happy to put it down for me on paper. A superb drawing hand, too." A smile lit up Tessa's face at the mention of Clary.

"Of course she has one," she said. "She _is_ Jocelyn's daughter, is she not." The smile was replaced by something of betrayal. "But how come you didn't tell me before? You could have just drawn the rune to come to Australia…" Jem, who had been tracing the rune on the wall, had the courtesy to look guilty as he paused in his work.

"I suppose it managed to slip my mind," he said, and drew the final line down, before stepping back and pulling Tessa with him. She looked at him questioningly as they stood several feet away, the runes beginning to glow brightly.

"Why–" She began, but Jem responded to the question before she even managed to say it all.

"Who knows how this rune will react," he said in an elucidative manner. "It _is_ a new one, after all, and is not meant to ever be used. It might not react very… well to my stele, rather than Clary's…" Tessa felt her mood lifting ever so slightly at a sudden thought. She decided to clarify with Jem.

"So it could…?"

"Go 'boom', yes."

"I suppose that we cannot be blamed for sabotaging one of Australia's greatest attractions if we didn't mean to."

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><p>Much to Tessa's relief, the rune did not go 'boom', though she still had her suspicions that while she stepped through, <em>then<em> the whole portal with explode on her, thus transferring her to some location unbeknownst to her.

"You should have Magnus teach you how to create a portal," Jem said decisively, folding his arms to observe his handiwork. "Warlocks are the ones who set up portals, after all." Tessa didn't respond. She had only ever been through a portal which belonged to Magnus Bane (the safest that she could think of) when they had travelled from Paris to New York after Will had died. Jem somehow managed to persuade her to travel through his, and with his arm around her shoulders, they stepped through the large doorway. It looked like a bubble that had been dyed a pale blue. Jem didn't let her hesitate as he stepped through, his leg vanishing first, and Tessa, unwilling to be left behind, closed her eyes tight and practically threw herself in after him.

She only opened her eyes when she was certain that she was on solid ground, and as soon as she did so, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She grabbed Jem, who was the only compact figure around, until her vision cleared. They stood outside the New York Institute's gates.

"By the Angel," Jem whispered with an exhaled breath. "It actually worked." Tessa burned holes into the back of his head with her eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She demanded, and Jem cocked his head as he turned to look at her. The corners of his mouth lifted into a sly grin when he saw Tessa's face.

"Oh, well, you were right to have your doubts," he said, walking forwards to the huge, gothic cathedral. "I myself was silently terrified that we would be incinerated."

"_But you were the one who_–" Tessa cut off to grind her teeth, but followed Jem inside the gates. With an apologetic smile, one which wouldn't allow Tessa to remain irritated with him, he knocked on the door, and half a second later, no later than when his knuckles began to lift from the door, in the process of coming down for a second knock, the door flew open, and both Jem and Tessa froze, as did the person on the other side of the door.

A redheaded girl of a stature that Tessa could easily call 'petite' stood on the other side of the door, but what stood out for Tessa was the pair of green eyes that were virtually ablaze on her freckled face. After casting a quick martyred face at Jem, Tessa stepped up, a soft smile on her face.

"Clary," she said, and Clary flushed, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I–" She was positively blushing to the roots of her hair. "Tessa, Brother– I mean, Zachariah." Tessa couldn't help but throw an amused glance over her shoulder at Jem. He was still memorable, as 'Brother Zachariah' among the Americans, which Tessa couldn't really imagine. Her (along with the rest of the long gone generation of London's shadowhunters) case had been the opposite. They had continued to call the former James Carstairs 'Jem', earning much reprimanding from the Silent Brothers, Brother Enoch especially. Now, however, Jem merely smiled his usual friendly smile at Clary, who was backing away from the door to allow their entry. She seemed awfully distracted, her eyes constantly flicking outside.

"Expecting anybody?" Tessa asked, and Clary glanced at her.

"Not really. I mean, yes. Sort of." The girl looked almost terrified out of her wits. Tessa chose not to pry, but couldn't help feeling slightly suspicious.

"Is Jocelyn here?" Jem asked, and Clary, who appeared to be sneaking out the door, straightened and cleared her throat.

"Yeah. In the library, I think," she guessed. "Sorry, I have to go…" With a face that was somewhat crossed between ruefulness and guilt, Clary tripped out the door rather ungracefully, and Jem, with a shrug, closed the door behind her.

"Children will be children," he said serenely, and Tessa allowed herself to dimple, arguing half-heartedly on Clary's behalf, "She's seventeen-years-old, Jem."

"But judging from the maturity levels nowadays," Jem informed her, "you only become an adult when you turn fifty."

"Aren't you kind?" Tessa laughed, and Jem did likewise, but his expression sobered up almost immediately.

"Do you remember what we were doing at seventeen?" He asked, and she simply looked at him, making it clear that she remembered.

"Technically, _I_ was seventeen, and _you_ were eighteen." But despite her light tone, Tessa suddenly felt heavy. Something in her chest felt heavy, that is. That age had been when the two had been engaged, ready to marry so swiftly, racing the clock of Jem's life. But it hadn't been simple. Not when Tessa had still loved Will so much.

"I would do it again," Jem breathed, and Tessa was unsure whether those words had been meant for her or not.

"Come along," she said, avoiding his eye and beginning to walk. "We had better find the library before Jocelyn thinks us deceased for the length of time that we take." Her heart refused to release the load which was weighing it down, though. Jem's words had ensured that. It would never be simple between them, that was certain. No matter how much she loved Jem, even if she ever came to love him more than Will (which she didn't want to think about), Tessa wasn't sure that she would ever be ready to marry again. She wished that Jem hadn't brought the subject up. It didn't matter if there were two names on her heart, one of them belonging to Jem, because the second would never fade either. The one tattooed down to always read '_William Herondale_'.

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><p><strong>No matter how hard I ship Jessa, Wessa will always have its own nook in <strong>**_my_**** heart. I can't leave Will out of it, okay? Alrighty, prepare yourself for Chapter Three, which will include Clary POV! Review & Follow! Yes, yes, you're welcome.**

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	4. Chapter Three: The Ghost of London

**Chapter Three**

**~The Ghost of London~**

**Hmm, has the chapter title gotten you mystified? O_o Nice to know. For this chapter, I had to do a fair bit of research on the shadowhunter wikia to uncover each family tree, which was actually extremely interesting… And guess who this ghost happens to be? Come on, have guess! :) Kk, see you in America. Let's do some ghost ****_sightseeing._**

**Review Responses:**

**DystopianKitKat: Hmm, maybe he is, maybe he isn't…we'll see… **

**ink2parchment: Yes, but it's still a little bit complicated… 0_0 Okay, I'm not going to talk about love here… **

**foxy_heart: You can be sure about the Jessa!**

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><p><em>It didn't matter if there were two names on her heart, one of them belonging to Jem, because the second would never fade either. The one tattooed down to always read '<em>William Herondale_'._

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><p>Clary hated lying, especially when it was to a person who seemed to be able to see straight into your very soul. It had been quite a shock to stumble into Tessa Gray and Brother Zachariah, erm, <em>Zachariah<em>, once again, especially so soon after Los Angeles.

Clary couldn't help but allow her eyes to flick outside every few seconds, wondering whether Tessa or Zachariah had seen her…

"Is Jocelyn here?" Zachariah asked, and Clary's eyes darted back to his. It was so strange to hear his voice, that is, meaning to _actually_ hear it, not hear it in her head… And as if that wasn't weird enough, he also happened to be, well, not exactly _hot_, but really, extremely, handsome… sort of Asian-based eyes, with little golden and amber flecks through it, and fine, angelic features. Clary felt weird to be thinking that. When she was younger, she probably would have looked at him and seen a beautiful person, perfect to be portrayed in a drawing, but the (what were they, runes? Or scars?) marks along his cheekbones reminded Clary of what he had once been, and she quickly jolted back to answer the question.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "In the library, I think. Sorry, I have to go…" Tessa's steel grey eyes were on her as she half-fell outside, and she ducked around the corner, out of the half-shadowhunter, half-demon's line of sight. Or would it be more simple to say new-breed-of-warlock? Clary rolled her eyes, waiting until she heard the door click shut before running across to the opposite side of the institute, where she had last seen the ghost.

"Jessamine?" She called in a soft whisper. "Jessamine, are you here?"

"Yes, I am here." At first, Clary couldn't see the body of the fine, British voice, and then the misty shape appeared by a rosebush. "Gosh, I truly _do_ hate skulking around outside an institute which isn't mine to watch over."

"Sorry," Clary said guiltily to Jessamine Lovelace, the ghost of exquisite beauty. Clary wasn't entirely sure of the ghost's past, but she had appeared by her window once when Clary had been messing around with new runes, wondering what each one would do. The one that had been burnt down onto her arm was apparently one which allowed the bearer to see (and summon) ghosts. "I just thought that you might be able to help me."

"Oh, what a dreary matter," Jessamine sighed, ruffling her long skirts and tossing her hair. "Well, out with it, then, I suppose, so that I can return to my institute."

"Oh, um, yes," Clary mumbled, delving her hand into her pocket. There was something about Jessamine which made her feel rather inferior, and it was either the way that she spoke in such a cynical tone, or perhaps it was merely her beauty. Or both, Clary supposed as she pulled out the necklace from her pocket. "Does this look familiar to you?" She asked, and Jessamine sighed, before floating over and peering down at the object. And then she reacted in a way that Clary wouldn't have expected at all. The ghost went even paler, nearly fading, her eyes going round, and a hand went to her mouth.

"Where did you get that?" She breathed, and Clary blinked, unsure of the reaction.

"Well, just today this guy came up to the institute and asked for Tessa," she said slowly. "And when Tessa wasn't here, he was sort of shooed away, I think. I was just coming in through the gates at that time, you see, so I didn't hear the whole conversation." Clary frowned as she continued. "When the guy passed me, he gave me this, and said that I had 'best seek advice from an ancient one'." Normally, Jessamine would have scoffed at being referred to as ancient, but she stayed silent now. Clary concluded, "You're a ghost, so I though that you _could_ be pretty old. I mean, from what you're wearing and… yeah…"

"_Do you know who Tessa is_?" Jessamine asked roughly, and Clary blinked.

"Yeah, she's a warlock, I mean, a new type of one but–"

"No, I mean, do _you_ know who Tessa is?" Jessamine's words made no sense. Clary stared. "What I mean is, do _you_ know, rather than listening to what other people have told you?"

"Well… no." Clary's face felt hot, and she tried to avoid looking directly at the ghost. "Can you… tell me?" Jessamine's face grew so desolate, so regretful.

"It would not be in my place to tell," she said sadly. "You see, when I died, Tessa Gray and I had not exactly been in each other's 'good book'." Clary's mouth fell open.

"So you knew Tessa?"

"Of course I did." Jessamine now sounded offended, back to her old self, which somehow made Clary feel a little bit better. "Now, why don't you run along and ask her yourself, and perhaps she won't hate you very much." Clary ignored the latter part of the sentence, and glanced down at her arm. The rune was fading, and Clary's head shot back up to see that Jessamine had begun to fade away as well.

"No, wait! Don't go!" She exclaimed uselessly, and Jessamine glared at her.

"I'm not _going _anywhere," she snapped. "You merely will have veiled eyes to the world of the dead. Now, go, little Charlotte, to solve your little mystery."

"_Little Charlotte_?" Clary asked breathlessly, but she shook her head and hurriedly moved on. "Wait! But how?"

"Well, Tessa _is_ inside right now," Jessamine said with a sigh. She now looked like she had been painted from a drab palette of pale grey water colours. "I am rather certain of that seeing as James Carstairs managed to walk right through me on the way to the door." The ghost touched her stomach sadly. "It is not a very nice experience to be impaled by an arm."

"No, I mean _how_. I'm not close to Tessa or anything–" Clary cut short. Jessamine had vanished from sight. "God dammit," she muttered. "Why couldn't you have just told me?" But it was too late. Clary didn't want to risk infuriating the ghost by summoning her up immediately, so, exhaling, she slipped the clockwork angel necklace back into her pocket.

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><p>Tessa was feeling something that she didn't usually feel. <em>Suspicion<em>. She most certainly was not the most trusting person that you could meet on the street, but nor was she the most dubious. Tessa preferred to think of herself as _neutral_. Yet, watching Clary outside through the window, watching her seemingly _speak to herself_ was pushing the boundaries just a _little bit_.

"Tessa." Jocelyn's voice eroded her thoughts, and she spun around sheepishly.

"Yes?" She asked. Jocelyn looked confused.

"You seem awfully distracted," she observed. "Perhaps now isn't really the right time."

"I–" Tessa began, but Maryse Lightwood (God, how that name also managed to burn a hole right through her soul), the current Head of the New York Institute, gave her a look that clearly told her to be quiet. With a small huff, Tessa turned to look out the window again, where Clary had begun to walk away. With a frown on her face, she tried to depict what had been happening down there, and missed Maryse's next words.

"Why, she is a little bubble-headed today, isn't she?" Tessa still managed to catch Maryse remarking, but Jem responded before she could.

"Stepping through the portal was probably a bit disconcerting," he interjected. "The last time she went through one was–"

"Seventy or so years ago," Tessa interrupted, playing along as to not rouse suspicion. "And that portal happened to belong to Magnus Bane, and I suppose that when it comes to portals as such, I lay more trust in him than in James Carstairs." She wore a smile which was vaguely embarrassed to impersonate her role, and earned a slight smirk from Jem, as well as a few stares from Jocelyn and Maryse. "Do continue," she added.

"Well, of course," Maryse muttered. "I take it that you'll be remaining here seeing as you just arrived, so I'll have somebody show you to your room–" she cut off, looking mildly embarrassed. "Assuming that you share a room…" Tessa and Jem had been sharing a room since they'd met up in January that year, when Tessa had first learnt that Jem's bond with the Silent Brothers had been severed. Jem and Tessa exchanged a glance.

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><p>The first time that Tessa had seen Alec Lightwood, her breath had been snatched from her body. The resemblance between him and Will had been shocking, and when she had learnt that he was a descendant from Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood, she had been stunned into silence. Alec had not inherited their sandy-brown hair, nor those green-grey eyes, and the only resemblance that she had seen was the tall, lanky frame that Gabriel had had. And then she had nearly hit herself for being such a fool as she remembered that Cecily Herondale had been his great-great-great-grandmother. Yet, when she passed Alec and his sister, Isabelle, in the corridor again, she momentarily forgot who he was and nearly whispered, "Will?" But amended herself before she could utter a single word. Clearly, neither of the Lightwoods knew who she was at first glance, however, Isabelle most definitely recognized Jem. Tessa could still remember Isabelle whispering about Jem being 'hot'. This, she couldn't help but find, was highly amusing.<p>

No words were exchanged except for a short, "Hi," from Alec, a, "Mr. Lightwood, Miss Lightwood," from Jem (still so extremely old-fashioned), a small smile from Tessa, and a grin from Isabelle. Tessa didn't really know either of them, but from what she caught onto, Alec was a rather serious and self-conscious character, whilst Isabelle was quite the opposite. Tessa had learnt that Clary's brother, the megalomaniac from earlier that year, had killed the Lightwoods' younger brother, Max. Tessa knew that it had to have hurt more than when Nate had been killed, as Tessa still saw her brother, or rather, her _cousin_, as a traitor, though he was still family. However much Tessa tried to forgive him, no matter how many times she said it out loud, she knew that her heart didn't believe her.

"What _were_ you looking at out the window?" Jem asked finally, and Tessa almost visibly slumped.

"I… I myself am not so sure," she sighed. "It seemed as though Clary was outside, having a conversation with nobody, but perhaps I was imagining it and she was doing nothing…"

"Tessa Gray does not 'imagine things'," Jem said teasingly, and Tessa went to elbow him in a rather unladylike manner (though Tessa had begun to forgot what it was to be 'ladylike') but a breathless voice interrupted her.

"T-Tessa?" She looked over to see Clary at the opposite end of the corridor, looking rather ruffled. "Can I speak with you for a minute?" Clary asked, and Tessa glanced over to Jem, who shrugged and gave an encouraging nod before turning and walking down the opposite end of the corridor. Staring after him for a moment, Tessa slowly turned to face the small redhead and put on a friendly smile as she walked to meet her.

"What can I help you with?" She asked, and Clary's face blanched. Tessa felt the smile slip. The two stood in silence momentarily, staring across the corridor at one another.

"I have to ask you something," Clary said finally, and Tessa wondered why she was acting so morose if it was merely a simple question that was worrying her.

"Ask away, then," Tessa said, and Clary opened her mouth as though to speak, but then she closed it again, and she brushed her hair out of her eyes nervously. Tessa felt a small frown building up as she watched Clary's hand slowly begin to move to her pocket. Something burned at her skin, and indistinctively, Tessa felt her own hand move up to touch the clockwork angel at her throat, where it seemed calling her. Her eyes flew wider as her fingers made contact with the angel, because it was ticking again.

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><p><strong>Aha, it's ticking again. And it stopped ticking when the angel left, remember? O_O <strong>

**GAAAAH HISTORY IS REPEATING ITSELF! No, just kidding. That sounds so corny, anyway. **

**Ooooh, history is repeating itself… DX DX DX And Jessamine has returned, so does that mean that other ghosts might appear as well? Get what I'm implying? AH, SO MANY QUESTIONS! Review and follow ****_The Gray Princess & the Violinist_****, please! :3 **

**~Black Cat Widow~**


	5. Chapter Four: Love's Drug

**Chapter Four**

**~Love's Drug~**

**Why, of course Jace Herondale must return to the story some time, and that time happens to be this chapter! Where on earth would we be without him? Yes, I said Herondale. ****_Herondale_****! READ CITY OF HEAVENLY FIRE IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT HE RENAMED HIMSELF HERONDALE, JESUS, AND WHY ARE YOU READING THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T BECAUSE THERE ARE SPOILERS! Okay, let's get on with this. **

**Review Responses:**

**foxy_heart: Why, thank you! I love those types of readers… it's very complimentary. **

**ink2parchment: Hmm, are you right or are you right? ;)**

**Guest: Hehe, thank you! Tessa and Jem are by far the most enjoyable to write about. **

**Guest: I'm not sure whether this is the same guest as the other, so I'll just write the responses separately… Thank you very much! It's been really fun writing this, but with school back on, updating can become quite irregular, sadly. :) **

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><p><em>Something burned at her skin, and indistinctively, Tessa felt her own hand move up to touch the clockwork angel at her throat, where it seemed calling her. Her eyes flew wider as her fingers made contact with the angel, because it was ticking again. <em>

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><p>How was it possible? The angel couldn't have returned… it was impossible… Tessa's hands went straight back to her side, as did Clary's, and neither of them moved. They were at a standstill. Finally, Tessa spoke.<p>

"You–" she began, but winced at how hoarse she sounded, and cleared her throat. "You were going to ask me something?" Clary shook her head, though she remained as white as milk.

"No, it doesn't matter," she said conclusively, and it was as though her alarm had made her forget to act formal as she usually did around Tessa. Tessa herself observed this, and couldn't help but prefer Clary like this. "I… yep, I've got to _go_... I, um, bye." And when Clary scurried away, Tessa couldn't help but allow her eyes to follow the girl, eyes trained on her trouser pocket. With a frown, Tessa thought, _what is in that pocket_? Tessa hated sitting in silence with unanswered questions, and returned to an institute certainly seemed to be stirring a dozen of them up. She wondered whether she would indeed be better off going back to Los Angeles with Jem, where they would be able to watch over young Emma Carstairs and the Blackthorns once again. And if it hadn't been for the whole 'Mortmain' matter, she would be halfway across America by now, and probably not looking back over her shoulder.

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><p>Clary needed somebody to confide in. <em>Anybody<em>. The clockwork angel was beginning to freak her out, and what freaked her out more was the fact that Tessa had been wearing the exact replica of it. And as soon as Clary had moved to take it out of her pocket, Tessa's hand had gone to her neck, as though there was a magnet between the two of them.

_Something weird is going on here_, Clary decided without giving it too much thought, and thundered up the stairs, probably stirring up a cloud of dust behind her. With a scowl on her face, she found her way into Jace's room, where she was not at all surprised to find it empty.

Sighing, Clary fell onto her back atop his bed, which had been made neatly, and gazed around the room. Not a speck of dust could be seen, she mused to herself. Quite the opposite of what could be seen in her own bedroom. People would have thought that teenage guys would the ones with the messy rooms, but in this case, it was quite the opposite, and it didn't help that Jace had a sort of OCD.

Smiling into her hand, Clary turned her face upward and watched the ceiling silently. There was something about this room that calmed her nerves, and now, lying in the dim room, she felt an obsessive tug in her mind, lulling her to sleep. Seeing no point in resisting, Clary allowed herself to be carried away, like a leaf taking flight in a gentle air current.

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><p>"I swear, it started ticking again!" Tessa exclaimed, dangling her clockwork angel necklace between her fingers. It had gone silent now, a lifeless mechanical body, completely limp and cold against her skin.<p>

"Tessa, that isn't possible–" Jem began, leaning down from his perch up on one of the higher beams of the greenhouse. He seemed to have picked up on some tips from Church, who had always had a knack for finding comfortable places which nobody usually disturbed, and apparently the roof beam in the greenhouse was one of them. Tessa wasn't entirely sure whether to feel alarmed or amused as she gazed upwards. She was all too certain that Jem wouldn't fall and break his leg (and even if he did, he could always use an _Iratze _rune), yet she still wasn't all too comfortable with it.

"Of course I'm aware that it's not _possible_," Tessa said, exasperated, "yet apparently it _is_." She wasn't sure whether she was relieved that the angel had gone silent once again (however much she looked like a fool for believing that it had come back to life momentarily), or whether she wanted the angel to have returned to protect her for good, and nor was she sure whether that sentence had made sense or whether she looked like a bumbling idiot.

Jem simply extended a hand, indicating that Tessa should throw the necklace up to him, and she warily undid the clasp at the nape of her neck before tossing it up with exact precision. Jem caught it easily and brought it up close to his eyes to examine. Tessa folded her arms and looked at her feet, which were clad in a pair of black Doc Martens, so different to what she had grown up with, which made her feel even worse at her next thought.

"If only Henry was here," she said with a wistful sigh, tilting her head back to look at Jem, who was staring down at her with an unreadable expression. "What I mean is, he would know why it started ticking, if only for a second. Perhaps the mechanics malfunctioned for a moment or–" She fell silent as Jem swung down from his beam and landed right in front of her. Despite the fact that he had given up on remaining as a shadowhunter when he had returned to his former state of human, he still remained as well trained and skillful as he had one-hundred-and-thirty years ago. Now, Jem didn't even have to pause to catch his breath as he took Tessa's face in his hands, his long violinist fingers so delicate as touched her, as though she was made from china and could break at any moment. Tessa felt her heart speed up, her heart hammering in her ears at his closeness, and almost drowned in his dark eyes, so wise and old, contrasting against his young features.

"If Henry was here," he said softly, "he would tell you that you have nothing to worry about. Both Mortmain _and_ the angel are gone, and they aren't likely to be coming back. We've skipped that part of history." In spite of the fact that Tessa's blood felt as though it was boiling due to Jem's closeness, she still managed a slightly more reassured smile, and she lowered her eyes at him.

"And does _Henry_ have any more to add to that?" She asked, her voice close to a purr, and Jem's own voice was awfully husky when he responded.

"Not at all," he said, and lowered his lips to meet hers all too slowly. With a noise of frustration, Tessa grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down, but Jem was obviously not in a mood that matched hers. There was a grin on his face as he kissed her, too tantalizing and slow to balance her needs, and he lifted her hair away from her neck to nip at her skin, and Tessa couldn't suppress the moan on her lips as he did so. She felt Jem's hands doing something behind her, but being so attuned to her collarbone, which Jem had now moved on to harass with his teeth, didn't leave her with much time to think about his hands.

Something cold fell against her skin, and Tessa's eyes flashed open and she automatically released Jem's collar to touch her neck, where the clockwork angel lay once again. Jem smirked, opening his hands wide to show that he no longer held the necklace, and Tessa scowled at him as he dashed out the door.

"James Carstairs, you have matured ever so drastically over the years," she called after him, yet she followed him out whilst shaking her head, positive that he could hear her. "And now I have you and your matureness to thank for the bites on my neck which will be sure to attract attention."

"Your love is my drug." Jem's voice echoed down to her from out of nowhere.

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><p>Something warm was pressed up against Clary's back when she woke up, and she blinked sleepily. She had had a dreamless sleep, and felt so tired still.<p>

Yawning, she allowed her arm to sneak off of her bed and down to the floor to recover her phone to display the time. She then blinked in alarm when she realized that her phone was not in its usual place, and she was not in her bedroom.

Bolting upright, Clary stared at the room until she remembered that she was in Jace's room, and that the warm thing behind her was Jace himself, most likely back from roaming around with Alec, slaying demons. Now, however, when he slept, he looked a whole lot younger, without the cockiness that usually lit his eyes up, or the constant desire to keep a secret hidden. He looked like a normal boy. Teenager. Adult. Guy. Clary couldn't figure out which one fit best any more, not since Jace's eighteenth birthday. With a sigh, she slumped back, wondering what on earth she had been fretting about earlier. Now, she couldn't remember at all.

"Are you…" Jace yawned, a sound that reminded Clary of a great lion himself yawning, "…awake?"

"Sorry for waking you," Clary apologized, worming her way off the bed. "I should find Mom–"

"Jocelyn said that she's going to stay here while Tessa and Zachariah do," Jace interrupted, which was so much like him to do. "Plus, nobody would be too pleased if you went sleep-walking at midnight." He stared up at the ceiling, his golden eyes thoughtful, a rare trait for him. "Or rather, _Mom_-seeking."

"Har har, very funny," Clary scoffed, and she and Jace lay, shoulder-to-shoulder, on the bed. "There's something that I need to talk to you about," she said slowly and sleepily, and Jace was twining his fingers through hers.

"Talk to me, then," he said, in that simple yet somehow flirty way of his, and Clary narrowed her eyes.

"I just can't remember what it was."

"Sleep then. You'll remember in the morning, and anyway, I need my beauty sleep so that I may be as charming as ever to greet our two guests." Clary hit him over the head.

And all through the night, the clockwork angel lay in the dark depths of Clarissa Morgenstern's pocket, and it was clearly waiting for something.

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><p><strong>I do hope that that wasn't too tedious. It's 1:05am precisely, and I wanted this chapter done, so I deserve some reviews and follows for that. ;D Hope you enjoyed the Jessa moment! And, ooh, naughty, poor Tessa has love bites all over her neck now for no good reason. :-o <strong>

**~Black Cat Widow~ **


	6. Chapter 5: A Tricky Abduction

**Chapter Five**

**~A Tricky Abduction~**

**Hallelujah! Chapter Five is up! Everybody, allow your souls to sing out of pure happiness. ;) Let's get this show on the road. Also, the title was changed to 'Clockwork Violinist'. I thought that that sounded better…**

**Review Responses:**

**DystopianKitKat: Well, it seems that there ****_are_**** two… but only ****_one_**** original. Keep that in mind.**

**Guest: Awesome as always? Yes, I know… ;) Nah, I'm not that arrogant, but thank you for the flow of reviews!**

**Miranda O'Hara: Yes, be confused. I suppose. ;)**

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><p>"I think that you have absolutely nothing to worry about," Maryse said calmly, "and that somebody had an idea for a prank where they were to try to scare the living daylights out of somebody." Tessa returned the Head's gaze just as evenly.<p>

"Of course," she responded, just as Jem asked, "Living daylights?" Standing side-by-side, Jem hooked his little finger around hers affectionately as their words overlapped, an action that he had once always done during their short engagement. Suddenly, Tessa became all too aware of the marks on her neck which she had evidently concealed with a heavy gray turtleneck jumper which brought out her eyes, and her face felt a little warm, as though everybody could see through the fluffy gray material. Truthfully, Tessa and Jem had never really had an overly, well, _intimate_ relationship. Meaning, no intimate _moments_. She wasn't ashamed to have had one, no, that wasn't why she felt her face was colouring. It had just been a very long time since she had had one of those relationships, which had been way back in the 1900s.

"I think that we had established that last night," Jem said, with a meaningful glance at Tessa, who nodded quickly. Today, all of her fears from yesterday seemed like such silly, petty things, like a nightmare from her childhood.

"We planned on leaving today," she clarified. "We wouldn't want to intrude on your hospitality too long. And nor is it my place to remain, seeing as I cannot be categorized with the shadowhunters." Jem applied a little more pressure to her finger when she said that, as though saying, "That's not true," and Tessa responded with a light squeeze of her own, one which clearly stated, "You know it is."

"No need to say that," Maryse chastised. "Shadowhunter blood is dominant, remember, and even if it wasn't, you've done a great enough deed to us to ensure a roof over your head here for many, many years." Tessa smiled bitterly at that, but otherwise didn't reply.

"We'll be leaving now," Jem said, and shot a look over at Tessa, who gave a small nod of confirmation, before smiling at Maryse.

"Thank you," she said, and Maryse responded, "My pleasure."

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><p>"They're <em>leaving<em>?" Clary exclaimed, leaping from her seat furiously. "But they can't, what about–"

"Honestly, Clary," Jocelyn said with a sigh, "I don't see why you're getting so worked up about it. They clearly feel no reason to stay, and we should be getting back to Luke anyway."

"But what about that guy who–"

"It means _nothing_ to them from what I can see," Jocelyn said, cutting across Clary once again. "Nothing to worry about."

_Jessamine seemed to think there was something to worry about_, Clary thought with a little bit of sulk. She felt her pocket to check that the angel was still there before sighing loudly and walking away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jocelyn snapped, and Clary called back, "Aren't I allowed to say my much anticipated farewells to Jace and Izzy?"

"And not Alec?" Jocelyn asked dryly, clearly overseeing the 'much anticipated farewells' part, which Clary didn't seem too happy about.

"Alec's off with Magnus, I think," she replied, her tone slightly annoyed. "Why, don't you trust us without him? He's the responsible one, now isn't he?"

"I'm not allowed to be curious?" inquired Jocelyn, pursing her lips, and Clary noticed a small line between her mother's eyebrows form. She braced herself. Something was coming if her mom was frowning. "How about Simon?"

Clary's heart plummeted.

"I… I don't know," she whispered. "He's not really adjusting to the shadowhunter world as well as he did before. He prefers the old world, I think."

"Nothing can happen the same way twice, Clary," Jocelyn said sagely, which made Clary feel even worse as she remembered Simon's memories swirling around the room, an intangible television screen viewing his life. She remembered her last desperate wish being whispered, a wish that would never be heard again. She remembered stretching her hand out, her fingers struggling in vain to catch the memories, as though she could hang on to them, keep them safe. Safe from Asmodeus the demon, never let him touch them, never let him dirty them. But she had failed. Clary's eyes began to grow hot and tingly as she remembered.

"_Please_–" she had said, Jace's arms restraining her, his arms like fetters around her. Clary hurriedly scrubbed her eyes and didn't reply to Jocelyn, merely turning and striding down the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, she took off at a bound, scrambling up the staircase and looking frantically up and down the corridor, fighting to catch her breath and figure out where Isabelle would be. The training room would be the first place that she would most likely be, or perhaps her bedroom. Breathing heavily, Clary clambered up to the training room where, for perhaps the first time, it was empty. Grinding her teeth, she ran back up the corridor, her feet slipping on the floor as she neared Izzy's door.

Clary floundered for a moment as she skidded to a halt in front of the door, and her limbs became all tangled up as she tripped over her own feet and crashed into the black door.

"Ah…" she clutched her head, wondered when she would be able to draw an agility rune down on her arm. Yanking herself to her feet painfully, she grabbed the door handle and turned it.

Isabelle's head snapped around to stare in alarm. Clary noted that she was wearing an over-sized shirt that looked very much like something that Simon would wear – Star Wars merchandise, no doubt – and Clary next saw what was clutched in her hand. The golden ring that the Seelie Queen had sold to them with a cheap purpose. Her eyes next moved up to meet Isabelle's, and saw her own thoughts reflecting back.

Clary burst into tears.

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><p>"Okay, okay, I'm… I'm okay." Clary drew in a deep sniffle at the exact same second that Izzy did, and expelled an awkward laugh at the coincidental timing. Jace looked on uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to do. He had walked in on the two girls allowing their emotions to flow out, sharing the pain. Clary was now calming down, and she rubbed her eyes, which felt puffy and sore.<p>

"It's going to be alright," Izzy whispered, so that Jace couldn't hear her. "He'll remember in the end. He will."

_Simon._ Clary didn't look directly at her as she finally linked her hand with Jace's, allowing him to pull her up from the bed.

"See you, Izzy," she said, fighting to keep her breaths even, and Izzy called back, "See you, Clary."

As soon as the door was closed, Jace took her face in his hands, his ochre eyes gentle as he searched her face.

"You didn't tell me that you still worry about Simon," he said, and for once, there was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. Clary sighed, taking his wrists in her hands and removing her skin from his and tried not to notice the hurt in his eyes.

"I– I don't. I've just got to let it out, sometimes." She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, and then reopened them and looked at Jace calmly. "It doesn't matter."

"God, Clary, you've got to stop pushing me away," he said roughly, grabbing her by the shoulders so that she couldn't walk away.

"Ever since you turned eighteen, you've become quite bossy," Clary said, attempting for teasing as she pried his fingers away, but Jace didn't follow the path that she was laying out – an easy getaway from the conversation. He continued down the old, rocky one.

"I'm serious," he growled. "If this is going to work, you've got to trust me more…"

"Trust _you_ more?" Clary exclaimed, disbelieving. "Just last year, was it not you who was pushing _me_ away because you thought that you were half demon or whatever–"

"Don't start on that now–"

"Oh no, I most definitely will! If you want _me_ to lay more trust in _you_, then _you've_ got to lay more trust in _me_!" She glared at Jace, who glared back, greatly resembling an angry and highly dangerous lion.

"Take your old married couples' quarrel elsewhere," Izzy's voice sounded from inside her room, but she was ignored entirely.

"I had every right to avoid you," said Jace, his tone sharp. "If _you_ thought that you were demon, would you go prancing about–"

"_Prancing_?"

"Yes–"

"No–"

"I just wanted to keep you all safe–"

"And I could have helped, if you'd just _talked_ to me–"

"You wouldn't have understood, and then there's this Simon situation–"

"Only Izzy would understand that…" Clary trailed off, feeling hot and irked. She stared at Jace, who stared directly back, and they were both silent for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. He took a step towards Clary, and Clary involuntarily took a step back, which Jace soon stole the distance from with another two steps, and then his lips were on hers, dominant and angry and desperate and laying claim on everything. Clary wanted to push him away, still mad at his stubbornness, at how unreasonable he was being… yet she couldn't, and then she was kissing him back, her body acting as though it had a mind of its own as her hands moved up and clasped onto the lapels of his shirt, and she felt his hands tangling into her hair.

"Jesus, Clary–" she heard Jace mumble against her lips, and then they separated, breath coming out rapidly. Clary gasped, trying to catch her breath, and wondered what on earth had just happened.

"Jocelyn's waiting," Jace said, his voice expressionless, and Clary directed her gaze on him, unsure of what to say. But Jace got there first, "I know," he said, and he sounded a little roused. Clary felt a small smile on her lips as she gave a single nod and turned and practically tripped down the stairs.

"Mom?" She called as she opened the doors of the institute. "We can go–" she cut off as she realized that Jocelyn was nowhere to be seen. "–now…" It was completely empty outside the institute. Frowning, she walked down the path and opened the gates, which only a shadowhunter could open.

"Mom?" said Clary, peering up and down the street. Nothing. A little puzzled, Clary tried to remember whether she had passed Jocelyn on her way down, neither of them seeing each other. But she recalled no flash of red hair at all. She walked up to the gutter of the street, glancing across the road, down the road, up the road. Not a soul in sight, not even a mundane. With a small shrug meant for nobody, Clary wheeled around and opened the gate again, planning on checking inside again, but she never had her chance to.

From behind, she felt a pair of hands seize her, fingers biting into her neck. Caught unaware, Clary opened her mouth to scream, _anything_, but no sound came out as a hand slapped across her mouth, muffling her voice. Clary saw the gates swinging shut as she was dragged away, and her eyes went wide. Struggling to open her jaws ever so slightly, she managed to bite down on the gloved hand, and the person's grip weakened momentarily, enough for Clary to wriggle her mouth out of the hand's way, and screamed, praying that somebody could hear her, that her mom was coming out of the institute now, "_HELP_–" but that was all that she managed as she felt something incredibly hard connect with her temple, and her skin felt like it was on fire for the one second that she was still conscious, before she fell, tumbling head-over-heels, into the awaiting darkness, beckoning for her like death itself.

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><p><strong>Good? Bad? :) It was nice to write from Clary's POV for an entire chapter, her being a modern-day girl like myself, and therefore way easier to relate to… is she dead?! Thou shalt not worry, for thy hero approaches rapidly, atop the back of his noble steed! <strong>

**~Black Cat Widow~ **


	7. Chapter Six: A Dark Discovery

**Chapter Six**

**~A Dark Discovery~**

**And here we are. Six chapters through, plus one prologue. ;) Thanks for all the follows, favs and reviews! Hope you like it so far, and I hope that it's not dragging on or anything like that since the end of last chapter was when the action really began…Now, read on if you must…**

**URGENT!:**

**Also, anybody who would like to see Jem in anime, just search up in google images 'Hotarubi no Mori e Gin'. The English dubbed anime, called 'Hotarubi no Mori e' is one of the saddest which I have seen, and it goes for only 44 minutes, so if you're interested, search it up! Seriously, if you're into it, you'll wind up bawling your eyes out by the end, quite possibly because the character Gin looks exactly like I would have pictured Jem, with silver Asian-origin eyes, silver hair and not a silver personality, but a golden one! **

**AND I FINALLY READ THE COMIC ON JEM AND TESSA'S MARRIAGE ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE. I feel so teary and emotional. I'll post the link here if you haven't yet read it. So beautiful… **

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**Review Responses:**

**DystopianKitKat: Ah, it couldn't have been an automaton? Now, could it…? And sorry, cliffhangers are my specialty… :P Glad you like it!**

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_Struggling to open her jaws ever so slightly, she managed to bite down on the gloved hand, and the person's grip weakened momentarily, enough for Clary to wriggle her mouth out of the hand's way, and screamed, praying that somebody could hear her, that her mom was coming out of the institute now, "HELP–" but that was all that she managed as she felt something incredibly hard connect with her temple, and her skin felt like it was on fire for the one second that she was still conscious, before she fell, tumbling head-over-heels, into the awaiting darkness, beckoning for her like death itself._

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Hanging back after being 'dismissed' was not something that Tessa usually did, however, the libraries of the shadowhunter institutes had always appealed greatly to her. If she were to be leaving for Los Angeles again, she would skim about the New York books and familiarize herself with the titles a little. Of course, it was no London Institute library, but it was still something.

Great, big and majestic, the library looked as though it could belong to Her Majesty herself. Tessa quietly chuckled to herself as she traced her finger along the faded crimson spine of a book in what appeared to be Italian. Old habits died hard. It would be more appropriate to say that the library looked as though it could belong to the president.

"Tess?" Jem's voice echoed down through the corridor in drifted into the library. "Are you quite finished yet?"

She pivoted on the spot, facing the voice.

"I–" Tessa paused as she began to affirm that she was indeed finished, seeing no purpose to remain any longer, but then she caught sight of a very familiar blue cover. "Not quite," she said lamely, darting across the floor to the book which beckoned her so attentively. Lifting her hands to touch it, her fingers came to a halt, suspended mere centimeters away from it.

It looked so much like the one in London's Great Library. Perhaps it _was_ the very same one. Maybe it had been loaned to New York, however doubtful it seemed. Perhaps, just maybe, when the Herondales and Fairchilds and Lightwoods had migrated to America so long ago, one had carried the book on them, and left it here?

_Darn it, Theresa Grey_, Tessa chastised herself. _Stop mulling around like an old woman and pick it up already!_ Except that she _was_ an old woman, but she didn't point it out to herself.

Fingers trembling, she watched them scurry along the book's spine of their own accord, providing a fair grip on the book before tugging it out of its nook.

It was the very same.

Except that once the cover had been a rich, deep blue velvet, and now it was faded and the velvet was no longer plush. The symbol, carved into the binding, seemed out-of-date and drab now, and the title which had once been silver now resembled white, with bleached bits of silvery substance clinging to it here and there. But Tessa had never seen anything more beautiful.

_The Shadowhunter's Codex_, it read. The most common book in the shadowhunter world. But this particular book evoked many loving memories in her mind.

A certain blue-eyed, black-haired boy dropping it carelessly down to a girl, before declaring that it was the only of its kind, six hundred years old, and to lose or damage it would be punishable by death. The young girl whom accompanied him in the library thrusting it away in horror. The boy teasing and accusing her of naivety, before proclaiming that this was how it had 'all begun'. The girl reading, desperate to ignore the boy's arrogant and cheerful manner which was so bewitching and irresistible (not that the girl would ever have admitted to it). And then realizing that the beautiful boy in front of her indeed had angel blood in his veins. Him quoting to her, 'Pulvis et umbra sumus.'

"We are dust and shadows," Tessa recited quietly, touching the cover gently. That conversation, the first true conversation that she had ever had with Will Herondale, continued to live on in her heart. And that book truly was a sight to behold after so long.

"_Tessa_!" Jem sounded aggravated, and Tessa hurriedly slipped the book back into its perch, before hurrying across to the doorway, right before bumping face-first into Jem. His dark eyes appeared irked, and his face was as agitated as his voice.

"I was…" Tessa broke off, suddenly feeling incredibly silly to have been dwelling over an old book. "… reading," she finished, but Jem was barely paying attention to her as he paced.

"Have you seen Clary?" he asked her, all in a rush, and Tessa's sheepishness immediately raced away, and she stared at him in total bewilderment.

"No, of course not, the last time that I saw her was when my angel–" her hand went to her throat immediately, eyes widening. "When it started ticking." Her hand remained by her throat, however. Jem didn't miss this, and he caught her by the shoulders, looking her directly in the eye.

"What is it?" he asked, tone more than a little troubled, and Tessa shook her head.

"Nothing," she whispered, though she was fairly certain that at the mention of Clary, her clockwork angel had throbbed, like blood dragging behind a bruise.

"I don't understand," Jem gabbled, voice strangled, and completely out of character. "First your angel ticks, and then Clary goes missing… I don't know what to make of it."

"Missing?" Tessa said hoarsely, her arms going limp and falling to her side. "No… I don't understand…"

A horrible thought crossed her mind. What if Mortmain was responsible for Clary's absence? Except that he was dead. Long, long dead. More than dead, really. He was a pulp of jellied flesh, blood and bone.

"Nobody can find her," Jem said, beginning to walk, his pace hurried, and Tessa hastened to not be left behind. "She isn't responding to anything."

"So you have searched _everywhere_," Tessa clarified, desperate for some sort of explanation that may sooth her horrible suspicion that included Mortmain's resurrection.

"Fairly sure." Jem narrowed his eyes at his feet as he walked. Tessa watched him as they walked, not really seeing anything, rather lost in thought.

She truly hated these disappearances, despised the very thought of one. Disappearances were what had crushed her in her youth, stealing away everything that she had believed in. The one that had affected her the most was the first that she had ever known. Arriving in London, only to discover that her brother was hidden away somewhere, and awaited a terrible fate if she was not to do the deeds of the Dark Sisters. Only, it turned out that Nate was the betrayer. It still shattered her heart if she contemplated it for too long.

"Have you any clue, Tessa?" said an anguished voice, chipping into her thoughts, and Tessa started. She blinked to clear her eyes, and Jocelyn stood in front of her, wild-eyed and very pale.

"I'm sorry," Tessa responded immediately, unsure of what else to say, and her throat tightened. She knew the feeling all too well, of being desperate to find a loved one, except that nobody had any clue what to do. Jem squeezed her hand reassuringly. Jocelyn put her face in her hands, and her skin was very pale.

"She's gone through too much at such a young age," she whispered. "If she's been taken, I don't know what I'll think."

"I doubt that you have any reason to worry, Jocelyn," Jem reassured, ever the gentleman. "Clary has proven to possess the talent to look after herself. As long as she has her stele, she should be fine."

"That's right," Tessa caught on quickly. "She probably decided to go and visit… somebody."

Jocelyn didn't look at all comforted, though she said, "No need to console me. I've dealt with worse. And we were meant to be leaving right now anyway. She said that she'd gone to say goodbye to Jace and Isabelle, but I haven't seen her since."

"You've asked both of them?" Tessa tried, and Jem answered her instead.

"Isabelle hadn't the faintest, and Jace told us that she left to find Jocelyn," he said.

"Gone again," Jocelyn muttered, wiping her brow. "By the angel, why was it me to be given the most rebellious adolescent of them all?"

"Of them all?" said Tessa doubtfully, raising an eyebrow, and was busy recalling the many rebels she had known, so she never heard a response. And then something caught her eye. A quick snippet of bronze, catching the light. Frowning, she crossed over to the window, ignoring the questions thrown after her, and then her eyes widened when she saw what it was. At least, what she _thought_ it was. Having a warlock's sharp sight helped her see what lay amongst the gravel, and she was fairly certain that she knew what it was.

"Tessa?" Jem and Jocelyn asked in unison as she slipped past them, heading down the corridor on fast feet. Tessa didn't respond, her mind caught in several possible scenarios, and she just prayed to angels that the pair were going to follow her. After several moments, she sensed the air currents change ever so slightly behind her, and knew that her prayer had been answered.

"Either I am going utterly mad, or a something is lying outside those gates," she said to no one in particular.

"What did you see?" Jem asked without hesitation, so much faith in his voice that for a moment, Tessa felt as though her heart stuttered. She ploughed on, anyhow.

"We'll see," she said, and even to herself, she sounded uncharacteristically stiff as she marched on. Her bravado was ruined when she stumbled right into Maryse as she rounded a corner, coming to an abrupt stop and flushing. Behind her, Jem and Jocelyn only sharply avoided crashing into the warlock's back, thus causing a domino effect.

"Maryse," said Tessa, flustered, and Maryse looked just as surprised to see her.

"Tessa," said an equally ruffled Maryse. "I thought that you said that you were leaving… not to be impolite, of course…"

"No, I, er," Tessa stammered, uncomfortable as a child being caught doing as they had been told not to do. She glanced around at Jem and Jocelyn both of whom looked almost amused at the exchange. Maryse peered around at the exact moment, and then blinked.

"James and Jocelyn… why, the lot of you! Funny that you had all been planning to leave right then and ended up playing parkour around the corridors." She narrowed her eyes. "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"Parkour?" questioned Jem.

"Aware of?" mumbled Tessa.

"Yes!" said Jocelyn. "Out of curiosity, have you seen Clary wondering around the place?"

Maryse's dark blue eyes changed from troubled to sheer puzzlement, and it was then that Tessa saw past the older, harder, experienced veil that the head of the New York Institute always wore. For a moment, she looked almost exactly like Isabelle, and then it was gone.

"That girl is always 'around the place'," she said sharply. "Why ever did you ask?"

"She just… vanished, I suppose," Jocelyn claimed, and stepped forwards, in front of Tessa, who folded her arms and tried not to look impatient. The two women in front of her had blocked off her path, and she decided that it would be more than a little rude to push past them. Most likely because she hadn't forgotten her manners from her experience of being one hundred and forty seven years old.

"Where are my children?" Maryse asked, her words almost a jumble as she quite obviously fought to remain calm. Tessa shared a short glance with Jem, obviously just as bemused.

"I… should I know?" Jocelyn asked, her tone suggesting that she felt just as puzzled.

"No, no, of course not," Maryse muttered, waving away her question, and frowning in the opposite direction. "A little worried, that's all…"

"Worried?" Jem put in, eyes darkening. Nobody ever had the chance to hear was Maryse would respond with. A sudden force rattled at the front door violently, and the hinges seemed to moan under the pressure. Tessa flinched, and silence fell over the four of them as they all gazed upwards at the high ceiling, the wind howling all around. The gigantic institute seemed to shake, the walls trembling, and she closed her eyes, willing the sudden storm to die down. After several more moments of this, it did, and it seemed that the weather had calmed.

"Bloody hell, what was that?" Jem said, a little hoarsely, and Tessa opened her mouth, about the assert something, anything, but then a cold wind swept through the entire corridor, sharp and fast as a blade, slicing through the calm air.

The cold bit through Tessa's torso, and she doubled over, gasping for breath as the iciness crept up the walls of her stomach with an unpleasant, trickling sensation. She groaned, her arms going to cover herself, winding around as though trying to put some warmth back into her.

"Tessa?" the voices spun around her, as though they were tangled in a spider's web, vibrating ever so slightly. She looked up groggily, fighting the urge to tear up, because she was almost certain that the tears would freeze on her face, transforming to streams of ice.

A warm, reassuring pressure on her arm drew her out of the pain momentarily, and she tilted her head, still doubled over and clutching her stomach, to find three worried faces hovering over her. She took Jem's proffered hand, and his skin felt warm, striking a realization that she had become frozen, as though she had been thrust into a chiller.

"She has become as cold as ice," Jem observed, not without anxiety, and a great buzzing filled Tessa's ears so that she missed what anybody else said, and her body was wracking with shivers, as though she had returned from none other than the underworld.

Except, why ever would she have visited there, Tessa pondered bitterly, and it hurt to even think too hard. Surely not to have a cup of tea with Hades.

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Watching Tessa, bent over to a point that she was half crouching on the ground, was not Jem's ideal image. He hesitantly extended a hand out to her, a gesture of support, and he barely noticed Jocelyn and Maryse as Tessa latched onto him almost immediately. Her skin was clammy and cold, as though the life had been sucked right out of her.

Looking up wildly to meet Jocelyn's deep green eyes, he said, "She has become as cold as ice."

"Diabolic winds," Maryse said, her tone baffled. "Said to be conjured up by none other than Satan's spawn." She gazed overhead, up at the high ceiling of the entrance hall. Looking directly above you caused the sensation of dizziness, Jem knew from experience. It felt as though all of the walls were pressing in on you, circling around like a high tower-cage. "There must be one close by."

"A demon near the institute?" said Jocelyn sharply. "Whoever would have thought of it?" Tessa made an indistinct noise, something which sounded vaguely like a 'blood-thirsty ducks in Hyde Park', but Jem passed it off as delirium. Nobody said that ducks were blood-thirsty. Nobody except for Will. The corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly, before he quickly pushed it away. He shouldn't be smiling at the moment. Nobody normal smiled when diabolic winds had be conjured by a Shadowhunter's institute. It was unheard of. But then again, Jem was anything but normal.

"_X__ǐ__ng lái_," he whispered, in a voice so low that he wasn't sure that Tessa could even hear. Not that she even appeared to be conscious. _Wake up_. "This doesn't sit right in my bones," Jocelyn continued, shaking her head slowly. "Clary disappeared, and next a demon's near by? I don't know, Maryse…" "Surely the two can't be related…" Maryse attempted to say reassuringly, but she didn't sound at all comforting, rather hard. It was at that moment that the sound of racing feet, hard soles against the floorboards, could be heard, echoing down the long, empty corridors. "_There you go_," Jem was tempted to say to Jocelyn. "_That's probably Clary with everybody else_." Except that he didn't believe himself, so that that white lie would be pretty hard to pull off. Barely five seconds later, Jace and Isabelle came around the corner, both wearing traditional black gear and if looks could have killed… Jem was stabbed in the heart when he remembered the lives of the many which were merged with his, and saw the resemblance between them, and their descendants. "What–" Maryse began, but Isabelle jumped in before the question could be completed. "Demon," she said breathlessly. "Where?" Jem demanded, his grip on Tessa's hand tightening fractionally. Tessa made a vague noise, somewhat between a groan and a hiss (if that was even humanly possible), and both Jace and Isabelle's eyes flicked down to her temporarily, obviously wondering what on earth the old warlock was doing, slumped over as though she was having a heart attack. "Haven't the faintest bloody clue," Jace announced in his usual American drawl. "Ugly little fiends are too slippery for their own good." Everybody pointedly ignored him except for Maryse. "If you haven't anything useful to share," she growled, but not without her usual maternal affection, "then please choose not to open your mouth. Izzy?" "Towards the west of the gates," Isabelle said, a whole lot more useful than Jace and his silly commentary. "It was too quick to tell what type it was, it was wicked fast, haven't the faintest idea where it headed towards. But it most certainly was a demon. I'd bet my whip on it." "Clary?" Jocelyn tried, her voice lilting on the edge of hopefulness, and nobody had to respond to that for Jocelyn to know the answer. Her face crumpled, and Jem shot her a sympathetic glance. "A demon approaching the institute one day was inevitable," Jace asserted stately, his voice deadly solemn. Jem, who had been attempted to help Tessa straighten, who had been weakly battering his help away, whipping his head around to look at his former _parabatai's_ great-great-great-grandson. Everyone else did so too, Isabelle the most disbelieving. "You _know_ about it?" she asked dubiously, echoing what Jem thought was what everyone else was most likely thinking. Jace merely looked offended. "So you are declining, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, that a demon would never come near our home?" "I never _said_ that–" said an overly-defensive Isabelle, and Maryse interrupted, her tone chilly. "_How did you know that a demon would come near_?" she said fiercely, and Jace's whole expression paused temporarily, his intense ochre eyes brightening as though he had been offered a particularly juicy treat. "Because," he said, "_I_ live here. Nobody, not even a demon, can resist chasing after me for my irresistible charm." "Oh, for the love of God," Jocelyn muttered, throwing her hands up in resignation. "Alright, I give up. In the name of the Herondale family, can you please give us a serious word now and then?" At the name 'Herondale', Tessa bolted upright, her face strangely alert, and Jem could almost hear her whole build protesting as she moved so swiftly, putting so much strain on her spine. "Tessa?" Jem asked quietly, noting everything about her: her steely grey eyes, too wide to be bearing a neutral expression; her face, so chalky pale that she might have been green if she were any paler; her whole face, absolutely empty and deprived of emotion. It was almost frightening. Without a word to anybody, she took off with quick, short strides, her hand still in Jem's, thus towing him after her. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the other four were looking after them with pure bewilderment in their eyes, and he responded with a look of his own: a mirror image of theirs. "Tess," he said, unsure of whether she was even listening to him through her strangely hypnotic phase. "Tessa, what's wrong?" He was almost surprised when she stopped short by the main doors. Nobody had followed them. Yet. Jem could sense the confusion mingling among the four, and could also sense that they would be pursuing the pair any second now, curious about the secrecy… "Something is out there, James," Tessa said in a low voice, her eyes glued to the floor. Jem was startled. Addressing him by his forename could only mean that something was certainly troubling her, and what troubled Tessa Gray could certainly call for no good fortune upon the rest of them. "What is it?" he tried, but Tessa merely shook her head, and she looked so small and frightened all of a sudden, causing his heart to tense. "Tessa?" And then it was as though that moment had been no more than a black cloud settling over them temporarily, for the very next second, Tessa looked up, her face no longer as pale as it had been. "But surely it is only a figment of my imagination," she said, though her voice could not fool Jem. It still held the cold, hard dread from before. "I shall… I shall take a look, anyway." Without another word, she removed her hand from his and took the door handle in her right hand, and Jem could still see it shaking, and wondered, not for the first time, what she was torturing herself over. "I–" he began, but then Tessa stopped quaking, and she seized the handle with more force than necessary, wrenching it open and scurrying clumsily down the steps. Torn between curiosity and alarm, he followed her out, the door falling shut behind them. Tessa was already halfway down the path, her mane of dark hair waving behind her as she went. Jem followed pointlessly, and heard the door open once again behind him, hearing Jace say, "By the Angel, is she making a break for it?" which sounded exactly like something that Will might have said under the same circumstances. "James–" Jocelyn called after him, but Jem refused to look around, keeping his eyes trained on Tessa who was now prying at the gates feverishly, finally managing to pull herself through. It was almost as though he was frightened that if he took his eyes off her for one second, she would be stolen away from him, just as all of the other lives that had been united with his long ago had been. Even from where he was, chasing her down to the street, Jem could tell that Tessa had gone rigid all over once again, from the stiffness of her back to her lack of movement. When he reached the gate, who opened if far more swiftly than Tessa had done, and came over to stand by her side, hunting with his eyes for whatever it was that had glued her to the spot. He had no idea that it would be him to be claimed by the past this time.

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Her knees felt weak as she stared, unable to stop staring. It wasn't fundamentally possible for there to be two. Yet there were two. Bright as day. Tessa could sense when Jem came and stood by her side, and heard when he sucked in a short, shallow breath, before freezing all over. As though time itself had stopped. The world slowed down, and Tessa suddenly became completely aware of everything and everyone, what was happening, what everybody was doing, how the whole human race was linked together. And it all revolved around that tiny piece of jewellery. The clockwork angel. Suddenly, running away and never returning seemed like a completely sensible idea. Why couldn't she, though? It was as they she was chained to the moment and all the hell that broke loose in her head; her thoughts ran awry, and all of the memories that she had stored away suddenly came barrelling back out, slapping her directly in the face. Hard. The Dark Sisters; her brother, his death; Charlotte and her kindness; Henry and his bizarreness; Jessamine and her curt comments about the angel being worthless compared to jewels; Mortmain, scarring her for life; Sophie; Cecily; Gabriel; Gideon. Will. All of the people who she had come to trust, to believe in. And the others. The ones who had come to pass, years finally claiming them as they hadn't her. Magnus, her oldest and most trusted counselor; Jem. The ones who were still with her. They all came rolling into her head at once, becoming a muddled mess, and she was only vaguely aware of what was happening, because suddenly she couldn't support herself, and she fell to her knees, jack-knifing on the ground, the other clockwork angel lying in front of her as though it was her master, and Tessa was bowing before it. Her body wracked with dry sobs, horror from all of her past years finally chasing her down. Nobody approached her. Nobody tried to help her. She remained in her own little bubble of remorse, and for once in her entire life, she was not willing to leave it.

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**Oh joy. That chapter was hilariously long to write, because I kept on being interrupted, losing track of what I was doing… ugh. I hope it was fine, and… yup. Some Jem POV should have done you people some good, because it certainly did me. ** **~Black Cat Widow~**


	8. Chapter Seven: Magnus Bane

**Chapter Seven**

**~Magnus Bane~**

***Sigh*. So tired… all the time… sorry, that's irrelevant. This will be the last chapter that I post for the year, until February, and language cautions for this chapter, so let's just get to the meeting with Magnus Bane already.**

**Review Responses:**

**IridescentxPetals: Don't worry, Simon will emerge one day… and yes, I noticed that about that paragraphing… I'm not sure why it's doing that, I'm trying to fix it up, but whenever I upload the chapter (I've deleted and uploaded that chapter quite a few times now) it always turns itself back into that big, messy clump of words. Sorry for that, though!**

**umdiddle: Ah, thanks for the advice. The perks of google translate… -_- Maybe I should have learned Chinese…**

**guest: Yes, it is continuing… I was just having this writer's block… UH. **

**(~) (~) (~)**

_Nobody approached her. Nobody tried to help her. She remained in her own little bubble of remorse, and for once in her entire life, she was not willing to leave it. _

**(~) (~) (~)**

Magnus Bane looked over Tessa once again, his pale yellow eyes rather expressionless. His pinkie finger was hooked around the handle of a delicate china teacup, along with his thumb. It was a strange way to hold a teacup, but Tessa had already grown to see it as normal after so many years of watching him do so.

But now, she was rather preoccupied. Her limbs felt clumsy and tired, her chest tight with dread, and her heart was fluttering at what Tessa could have sworn was a million times a minute.

"Sometimes the past should remain buried," Magnus said to no one in particular, and Tessa merely kept her eyes glued upon his teacup, hands clasped firmly in her lap, and she knew that if she saw her reflection in a mirror, she would look deadly. Quite literally. Like a ghost.

Tessa mustered up the courage to look over at Jem. He had most certainly taken a toll from the appearance of another angel, and he stood in the far corner of the room, arms crossed and legs folded against one another. His face was cloaked in shadows, his expression unreadable. As though he had sensed her gaze, Jem's eyes flicked upwards, the light specks in his irises glinting, like chips of amber, distant and aloof. Flat and unaware. As though he was in his own world.

"Clary's gone?" Magnus confirmed, and Jocelyn nodded stiffly from her seat, diagonal to Tessa. Luke Graymark, the werewolf, stood behind her shoulder, his hand on her shoulder. He had shown up several minutes ago, and at Magnus's words, Tessa vaguely noted that his knuckles paled, as though he was pressing down on Jocelyn's shoulder. Other than the five of them – Tessa, Jem, Magnus, Jocelyn and Luke – there was also Maryse, solemn and dark, standing opposite to Magnus; Jace, occupying another shady corner of the room, following Jem's lead; Isabelle, grim curiosity scrawled across her face; and Alec, who had arrived with Magnus, and was unwilling to be left out of the drama.

"Any thoughts?" Maryse asked, her head inclined slightly towards Magnus, who exhaled deeply through his nose and folded his legs. Despite his laidback position, Tessa could sense the acuity in his eyes; the gears in his mind were whirring, and hard.

"I would like nothing more to say than all of these events are coincidental," he said steadily, holding Jocelyn's eyes first, and then Tessa's, "Except that from my many experiences of this world, I'm afraid that that is not the case. Axel Mortmain's resurrection? A load of poppycock."

"Yes, bullshit," Jace agreed, and Alec said, loud enough for Tessa to hear, "How can you be so cavalier?"

"I'm only supporting Mr. Bane," Jace returned innocently, but Magnus tuned the conversation away from the pair of _parabatai_.

"Yet, diabolical winds, a demon sighting? The abduction of a shadowhunter directly under the nose of the New York Institute?" Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's unheard of, Maryse."

"I understand that," Maryse replied, rotating on the spot and moving away to pace as Magnus turned to Tessa. Tessa looked back at him, her eyesight still unstable, as though the room was tipping back and forth.

"You, Theresa, have an entirely different case," he said finally, and Tessa's chest tightened. She had thought she was over it all. She had thought that all of those years ago, what had been done was done. But it had still found a way to creep back up to her, catch her off guard. Again. "I have no explanation for those few moments of ticking from _your_ angel," Magnus continued, "But everything else? Either somebody managed to dig up a piece of history and have a bone to pick with you, in which they are pulling innocent pranks. _Or_. Something truly dreadful is recurring, and in that case, we must prepare ourselves."

"Truly dreadful?" Jem echoed, his voice tight, and it was the first time that he had spoken for a time as he emerged from his shadow. "What does 'truly dreadful' mean, in your dictionary?"

"Magnus?" Tessa stared directly into Magnus's eye, imploring him for an answer, and received a breathy sigh in return. A horrible feeling twisted in Tessa's gut as she awaited an answer.

"'Truly dreadful' meaning that the demons have gotten themselves involved in this whole mess, and it could indeed be possible that they are angel hunting."

"Angel hunting?" Tessa said hoarsely.

"It would explain the ticking in your necklace, and the fact that it has a sister." Magnus looked at the copy of the clockwork angel which lay in a tangle of delicate chains on the coffee table. There was undisguised dread in his feline-like eyes. "The demons are attempting to obtain another angel, for their _own_ protection, this time."

**(~) (~) (~)**

Lights blinked on in the corners of her vision, which was still a fuzzy, opaque blackness.

At first, Clary looked around, eyes still half-lidded and extremely disoriented, and she vaguely wondered why something scratchy was cutting into her wrists. And why there was a big, sticky flap against her mouth.

And then it all came rushing back to her. She, Clary, had been kidnapped, right outside the New York Institute. The room that she was now in wasn't even a room. It was a sort of long, dark corridor, and there were flickering lights above Clary's head. The lights didn't line the entire pathway, however. It was almost pitch black further down the path, but sure enough, at the far end, Clary could make out a small rectangle of light. The outside world.

"_Mmm_!" At first, she tried to scream for her mother or Jace, or Isabelle or Alec or whoever might turn up to help her, and then her eyes hardened. Whoever had taken her was stupid enough to think that some ropes could contain her, and had _also_ been dumb enough to leave the entrance door wide open. She hoped that they had also forgotten to take her stele, and with bound hands, she twisted her hands upwards to try to rub at her pocket. It was void of any stele.

_Dammit_, Clary thought furiously, and she sat there silently for several moments, wondering what on earth she could do to escape. And then she remembered something; a sharp smile tugged at the corners of her mouth beneath the strip of tape. She opened her mouth slightly, praying that the tape wasn't too strong, and to her delight, the whole piece stretched slightly, and she opened her mouth a little wider, the tape stretching dangerously now. Desperately, Clary glanced at the door down the corridor and silently begged that nobody would come through now.

Clary's jaws opened as widely as possible, and for several seconds, the tape held. Her heartbeat faltered for several seconds, and just as her hope plummeted in her chest, the tape snapped off.

Clary couldn't repress the grin which was creeping up her face, though it was a strange time to be smiling. The flaps of stickiness were still stuck to her cheeks, but Clary decided that she'd deal with it when she had the time – meaning, when she'd busted out of her 'prison'. Leaning downwards, so that her stomach and chest were pressed against her thighs, she craned her neck down to her three-quarter length cargo jeans and clamped her teeth around the seam of the right leg.

_If somebody walked in_, Clary thought to herself, _I would be a very strange sight_. She inwardly shook her head to distract herself, and then forced her attention back to her trouser leg. Several months back, she had taken a leaf out of Jace's book and had begun wearing a dagger, strapped to her calf.

"_For those tempting little dangers that can't resist creeping up on me_," Jace had told her once, when Clary had discovered it while they had been, erm. Other matters at hand here…

Tugging the material up slightly, Clary paused, her teeth grazing the handle of the knife. Cutting herself free would be difficult, but she couldn't give in with her abductors being such idiots, not even checking her for weapons other than her stele.

With a sharp intake of breath, Clary released the material and skipped across to the knife, her teeth closing on the steel handle. Exhaling deeply through her nose, she jerked at the knife, drawing it out of its sheath for several tedious seconds. Her neck was beginning to seriously ache when the dagger finally came loose, and she straightened, quite proud of herself. And then she tilted her head backwards, so that she was twisted enough for her chin to hover directly above her hands. Clary gave her hands an experimental shake, to get the blood flowing again, and praying to strike her target, released the knife. For a few slow, never ending seconds, the knife fell, and Clary struck out with her hands, snagging the knife before it could pass. She fumbled for a moment, turning it so that if faced the ropes, and then expertly began to saw at her bindings.

It took her roughly two minutes to do so, but when she was free, Clary bounded to her feet, tearing the strips of tape from her face and spinning the knife in her hand, cautiously beginning down the corridor. Her head span, a mother of all migraines developing as the outcome of being knocked out, but she pushed on, taking another five steps, debating silently whether she should make a break for it. If she ran, the old movie cliché would probably occur, in which traps sprouted out of nowhere… Clary was not all too willing to be snagged in another net, like a fly in a cobweb.

And then he emerged from the shadows, a tall, lean figure. Clary jerked back in surprise, and on impulse, lifted the knife and gave her wrist a skillful flick, sending the dagger flying with perfect precision at the accused. But the knife rebounded from an invisible barrier, and clattered to the ground. It was so silent that the knife making contact with the floor was the equivalent of a pin dropping. But the knife was the least of Clary's problem – her abductor was not as much of an idiot as she had initially supposed. She was indeed in a barrier. One made from magic.

"Shit," Clary whispered, frozen to the spot, and then the person made a small noise – was it a chuckle, a snigger, or a whimper? Clary couldn't tell.

"He knew that you could break loose from that," the person said, and Clary's heart jumped. She knew that voice. Who, though? There was one person, but what, in the Angel's name, would he be doing here?

"'He'?" Clary questioned warily, unsure of whether she should try to fetch her knife or do the sensible thing – back away.

"My overseer." The boy made no move to leave the shadows. As though he was purposefully concealing his identity. "You have a gift, Clary."

While she should have been quite preoccupied fretting over who the hell this person was, only one thing caught her attention.

"_Clary_?" she asked. "How do you know what–"

"Clarissa." The wince was visible through the boy's tone of voice. "I meant Clarissa."

"Who's your overseer?" Clary snapped, her nerves jumping feverishly. The boy made no attempt to silence her. He said no words. "By the Angel, who _is he_?" the words tore from Clary's mouth viciously, and she pressed her hands against the invisible barrier, wishing for nothing more than to smash the obscure wall and drag this person out of the shadows, maybe slap him about a bit…

"I shouldn't have come here." The boy sounded distraught. "I shouldn't have seen you." Remaining in the corridor's shadows, he moved down, towards the block of light further along, and Clary gritted her teeth, her instincts screaming at her to lash out at the wall, try to break it down, though it wasn't possible without her stele. She resisted the violent temptations and curled her hands into fists against the barrier.

In the doorway, the boy turned his head to look at Clary temporarily, no more than a black silhouette against the bright lighting outside, and Clary saw his eyes glint, even from her place, so much further down. And then he continued to walk.

She fell to her knees, unseeing, because it was him. But why would? _How_ could he? Shouldn't he have been trying to save her, to bust her out of this hell hole?

But all that she saw were his brown eyes, once hidden behind a set of glasses.

Her best friend, her only friend, the one who had given his memories to a demon to save them…

_Simon_.

**(~) (~) (~)**

"Shit," Tessa breathed, for once swearing in the presence of others, and she stared straight at Magnus with terrified eyes. Her whole body was rigid with horror, and her fingers burrowed into her scalp, as though she could squish the memories out of her head. "Oh, _shit_. Fucking hell. _Fucking shit_." From the corner of her eye, she could see Maryse, Jace, Alec and Isabelle staring at her, perhaps shocked that Tessa Gray had just sworn, or perhaps from the tension between her, Jem and Magnus. Jocelyn and Luke paid little attention, on the other hand, obviously to preoccupied with the concept of Clary being stolen away by, what, a demon?

"Impossible," Jem said, though his voice was uncharacteristically stony, and colder than even ice. "Ludicrous. Unthinkable. Beyond the bounds of possibility. Completely mad."

"Listing synonyms of 'impossible' won't help," Magnus said, all too calm about the whole matter, but then again, he would have seen many, many more dramas in his lifespan, hadn't he?

"What can we do?" Tessa murmured, and while her voice was almost inaudible and slightly calmer, her mind was still a complete cyclone, having finally spilt out of the closet that she had stored the past away in.

"Let us give prayers to Ithuriel," Magnus said, obviously having not heard Tessa, "and hope that he is not, once again, the unlucky angel to be captured."

"An angel's imprisonment is inevitable?" Jem demanded, and Magnus repeated, "Let it not be Ithuriel once again."

"This is seeming to be a very one-sided conversation," Tessa heard Jace say, and she probably would have laughed and agreed if she had not been in her position. But she was.

"Perhaps it would be best if Jem, Tessa and I have a chat somewhere else," Magnus said, his voice meaningful, and Maryse nodded.

"We should begin to gather possibilities of Clary's location," she agreed, and Magnus inclined his head slightly, before striding out of the door, his bright eyes glowing yellow temporarily as he left. Tessa took the hint that she and Jem were to accompany him, and stood reluctantly, her movements slightly loitering, as though she was a zombie. Which she felt like. Her fingers itched to touch her angel, but her conscience went against the motion, and the weight of Jem's arm settling around her waist managed to distract her as they exited the room, Luke's words lingering on her skin as she walked, leaning on Jem for support.

"_It'll work out_."

The words were so comforting, so hopeful, that it drew out another sentence from the jumble in her head.

"_Will? Will, is that you?"_

"Oh, God, Jem," Tessa breathed, pausing and arching her neck back to stare at the ceiling. "What has the world come to?"

Jem's gaze was on her the entire time, serious and unblinking as he hooked his other arm around her, pulling her against him.

"We'll work it out," he declared.

"But last time we had Henry, Charlotte, Sophie…" and another one. An unspoken name that hung precariously between them.

"We've still got Magnus," Jem said. "And this time, we also have the others."

_Henry and Charlotte's descendants, Sophie and Gideon's, Cecily and Gabriel's_… lives which were woven into Tessa's destiny, into _all_ of theirs.

**(~) (~) (~)**

**Stop, don't talk. Just… soak up the blissful silence. Christmas is approaching fast, and while I'm sorry to say that the Mortal Instruments characters, and Tessa and Jem are all in a bit of a pickle for the upcoming event, I still say, "Why not enjoy yourselves? Leave ****_them_**** to me! I'll make sure that they still get Christmas pudding!" Sooo, thank you for the follows, favourites and reviews so far, and have a great remainder of the year! I'm taking a holiday break…**

**~Black Cat Widow~**


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